


natans

by armethaumaturgy



Series: sormik week 2017 [5]
Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 08:52:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11597232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armethaumaturgy/pseuds/armethaumaturgy
Summary: “Fish had always liked me,” Mikleo mutters, pulling his hands out of the water. One desperate fish even jumps after them, but to no avail. “I think it has something to do with being a water Seraph.”





	natans

**Author's Note:**

> written for sormik week, day 3 [nature]! i feel like this is something sorey would totally say tbh

With the sun high in the sky and a breeze, any place could be transformed into a tranquil hideout. However, it seems to have less to do with the unobscured sun or fluttering trees, and more with the company.

Though, Sorey would be lying if he said the sound of softly flowing water and chirping birds all around didn’t help the atmosphere.

He curls his toes, feeling all the stones at the bottom of the pond, between them. The water isn’t too cold nor too hot, but it does send shivers up his skin whenever it laps at any dry skin.

Mikleo doesn’t seem to have such a problem; he stands further off the shore, chest-up in the water, wringing out his cape. It never ceases to amaze Sorey how at home Mikleo seems in water. His movements are still elegant and swift, showing no sign that the weight of the water hinders him at all. The cape follows the rest of Mikleo’s clothes and ends up spread on the grass to dry.

The breeze plays with the fabric, but it’s not nearly enough to move the wetness, so Mikleo pays it no heed and settles on the wooden, half-fallen bridge next to Sorey.

“Something on your mind?” he asks, swinging his bare feet in the water, creating small waves.

Sorey blinks at him, watches a water droplet roll from a white strand of hair down the Seraph’s cheek and chin. “Why do you think?”

“Well, you have just been sitting here and staring off into nowhere. And ignored when I was talking to you,” Mikleo adds, with a playful half-smirk.

“I did? Sorry,” Sorey chuckles, looking down at the water.

A small red-scaled fish swims close, darting around Sorey’s feet to bump idly against Mikleo’s instead. Mikleo smiles and bumps it back, and soon enough, the fish is rubbing itself against Mikleo’s shins like a pseudo-petting.

And in no time at all, a few more follow it. ‘A few’ turns into ‘a lot’ in the span of what seems like a blink. Mikleo’s feet are obscured by the amount of fish and he has to lean over the edge and offer them his hands as well. They accept being pet eagerly, and even fight to get the affection sooner.

“They really like you, don’t they?” Sorey points out.

Mikleo cranes his head to look at him and in that very moment, with hair dangling down and catching the warm summer sunlight, he looks more angelic than ever, Sorey thinks.

“Fish had always liked me,” Mikleo mutters, pulling his hands out of the water. One desperate fish even jumps after them, but to no avail. “I think it has something to do with being a water Seraph.”

Sorey places a hand to his chin in thought while the fish slowly disperse, sensing that they won’t get any more attention. One or two lag behind, bumping Mikleo’s shins one last time before scurrying off somewhere into the deeper parts of the pond.

“Does that mean I’m a fish too?” Sorey asks, wearing the widest grin when Mikleo turns to look at him, puzzlement apparent on his features.

“Why would you be a fish?” he asks right back, and almost immediately regrets it; Sorey’s grin widens even further, if that’s even possible.

“Because I like you!” he exclaims, “I like like like you! Love you! I guess that would make me the biggest fish then! Ooh, can I be a whale?”

Mikleo sighs, but doesn’t protest when Sorey pulls him closer to wrap his arms around him. “Sorey, whales aren’t fish,” the Seraph mutters into the crook of the brunet’s neck. His damp hair must be tickling the skin there, but Sorey doesn’t say a word.

“But that’s the only one that accurately represents how much I love you,” Sorey whines and Mikleo can feel heat creeping up his cheeks at the words.

“You’re the worst,” he grumbles, but the smile is still very much present on Sorey’s face; it’s practically audible. And so is Sorey’s quick heartbeat.

Mikleo’s matches.

“You still like me, though,” Sorey says, not letting go. In fact, his hold only tightens, and Mikleo lets himself be pulled even closer.

“I do. A lot.”


End file.
